


Unexpected

by YumeArashi



Series: End Days [2]
Category: Matantei Loki Ragnarok | Mythical Detective Loki Ragnarok
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, POV First Person, Prophecy, Symbolism, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumeArashi/pseuds/YumeArashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events of "Ragnarok", as seen from Loki's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are in their adult forms.

I have to say, I was surprised by the invitation to Heimdall’s housewarming.  Partly by the fact that Heimdall would even have a housewarming, and partly by the fact that I’d be invited.  Then I learned that Freyr was involved, and I understood.  I also pitied Heimdall.

I ought to mention here that I do not in fact hold any particular dislike for Heimdall, nor have I ever.  I respect him, either as my enemy or not.  He’s intelligent and observant (naturally), and these traits combine to produce sharp insight and a degree of wisdom that even the Allfather might envy.  Of course, his temper has been known to override those characteristics, but that’s just as well; I might not be here today if not for that.

Also, I have to respect anyone who for millennia performed a thankless duty that

would have driven me stark raving mad within a month.  And yes, he hated me and tried to kill me, but given the circumstances, I think that’s understandable.

I did consider politely declining to attend; despite the invitation, I couldn’t believe that Heimdall actually wanted me there.  No, the invite was doubtlessly due to Freyr cheerfully steamrollering any objections from the host and guest of honor.

In the end, I decided to at least make a brief appearance as a token of goodwill.  I happen to know, courtesy of a certain god who shall remain named Freyr, that Heimdall had (somewhat grudgingly) dropped his vendetta against me and accepted the fact that I’m not the one who has his eye, nor did I take it willingly.  I’d been glad to hear it, though not altogether surprised; Heimdall’s too smart not to know the truth when he sees it, even if it’s a little slow in coming.  Though I can’t blame him for that - I hadn’t wanted to believe that Odin would betray me, either, and he’s not my father.  Anyway, according to Freyr, enmity had pretty much faded to dislike, so while I doubted Heimdall would be thrilled to see me, he probably wasn’t likely to do anything worse than glare either, so long as I behaved myself.

So I went, arriving fashionably late of course, and was relieved to find a relatively sane gathering.  After socializing for a bit, I went over to talk to my host, and found him surprisingly civil (which was quite possibly owing to the drink in his hand).  By that point I’d had enough myself to be cheerfully agreeable, and that seemed to amuse him.

I was soon quite enjoying myself; Heimdall’s intelligence makes for interesting conversation when he chooses to be talkative, and I discovered he has a dry sense of humor, though it’s subtle enough that I wasn’t always sure whether he was being serious.  Of course, I may have just been too drunk to tell.

Heimdall hadn’t had nearly as much as I had; enough to be relaxed, but not enough to be impaired in any way.  I’m ashamed to say it crossed my mind that he ought to drink more often; he made for good company when wasn’t being sullen.

Such good company, in fact, that I was startled to realize after a while that the party was dwindling to an end.  I couldn’t help but chuckle when Heimdall grumbled over Freyr skipping out on the clean-up; really, how those two lived in one house for as long as they did without major bloodshed occurring is a mystery Mayura could be proud of.

I’m not quite sure why I offered to stay and help in Freyr’s stead, and from Heimdall’s expression, he wasn’t either.  He protested mildly, I said it wouldn’t be any trouble, and he acquiesced.  The cleaning didn’t take very long; the apartment was small and the guests had been reasonably well-behaved, if somewhat excessively numerous.

Heimdall settled at one end of the couch just as I was finishing up, and I decided to see if he’d have any objections to my continued company.  So I flopped down on the couch beside him.  I somewhat expected him to kick me out, and he looked like he was considering it, so I was surprised when he just leaned back against the arm of the couch and swung his feet up on the couch - right into my lap.  He raised an eyebrow pointedly at me, obviously expecting me to move over, and I was about to when a bad idea popped into my head.  Instead of moving, I simply smiled angelically and patted him on the ankle.  I really expected to get kicked out for that one, but Heimdall just gave me a look and a long-suffering sigh.  And, oddly enough, left his feet where they were.

I made a fairly pathetic attempt at conversation, some inane comment about the apartment being nice (hey, I was drunk, remember?), and for my efforts received well-merited skepticism from Heimdall.  Then he gave me a sudden, wicked grin and commented airily that not having to share it with Freyr made it better than a dozen palaces.

It was so unexpected and so apt that I couldn’t help it; I died laughing.  Nearly falling off the couch and all.  Heimdall was amused by this lack of dignity on my part, and began laughing as well.

So of course I had to tell him about the time when Freyr tried to find a mate for Guillinbrusti, and he told me about Freyr deciding he wanted to learn to roller-skate, and so on.  It pretty much went downhill from there.

By the time we ran out of stories, my ribs were aching from too much laughter.  Heimdall was leaning against the back of the couch, eye closed, still laughing softly.  It occurred to me suddenly that I’d never seen him laugh before; in fact, I don’t think I’d even seen him smile.  It was amazing the difference it made, seeing his cold beauty brought to life with simple happiness.  Without even stopping to think what I was doing, I reached out to touch his smile, as if I could warm my hands by its light.

He was startled, of course, jerking away and regarding me with wide-eyed surprise.  But despite that, there was none of the anger I’d half-expected to see, and I was  glad of it.  I told him he should smile more often, that it suited him.  He didn’t seem to quite know how to respond, aside from a sudden, surprising blush, and his unexpected innocence was oddly appealing.  I touched his face again and he asked me what I was doing; I answered, quite truthfully, that I was looking at him.  It had been some time since I’d seen his true form, and back in Asgard I’d never really paid him much heed.  I’d almost forgotten what he really looks like.

He told me, a little hesitantly, that I was drunk.  I agreed, and played with his hair.  In some odd way, it hurt to see him react to my touch as if he’d never known gentleness.  And in reality, he probably never had.  A life that had never held room for a smile would have no place for kindness.

I wondered if he was even aware of the way he was leaning into my touch, just ever so slightly.  I wondered if he knew that the struggle between longing and uncertainty was played out in his face, as clear as the skies over Asgard.  I wondered if it hurt him that he’d never known the touch of a gentle hand.  I wondered if he’d let me kiss him.

I hadn’t intended for the last part to come out aloud, but even as I began cursing myself for pushing too far, a calm came over him.  There was wisdom in his eye, a strangely knowing look that I didn’t understand.  I had a sudden feeling that I was in over my head, but then he smiled, and I couldn’t deny the impulse to lean forward and touch those full lips with my own, even if it was just this once.  He let me do it, allowing the slight caress of my mouth on his.  And then he kissed me back.

It was so unexpected that I pulled away from him, my green eyes searching his crimson.  And what I saw there shook me to the depths of my soul.

Trust. 

Absolute and total trust.

I did not then, and probably never will, understand how he could still trust me.  But he did, and it ripped through every wall I’d ever put up and left me utterly defenseless.

He pulled me back to him for another kiss, and how could I do anything but let him?  The very knowledge that he was letting me do this, that he would allow me this intimacy, was irresistible, and I broke the kiss with a soft plea of his name.

He said nothing, but tilted his head back, completely accepting.  I scattered fervent kisses across his delicate face, traced my hands down his slender body.  He moaned softly, welcoming my caresses, and seeing him so eager for my touch was like fire in my blood.

I undressed the both of us, haste tripping my usually-skillful fingers.  He reached for me as I came back to him, and he was so beautiful it hurt to look at him.  He was smiling, his eye shining with that same strange wisdom I’d seen before.  I no longer doubted that I was far out of my depth, but it didn’t matter anymore.  I couldn’t have stopped if the fate of the world had depended on it.

He cried out a little as I took him, but even through the pain he never showed a moment’s doubt, nor the faintest sign of mistrust.  A sense of wonder struck me, that he could offer himself to me so freely, so absolutely.  Need swept through me, sudden and fierce and terrible; need of his acceptance, of his trust.  And though I didn’t know it at the time, as he offered himself to me and I accepted, I gave myself in return.

 *****

Afterwards, I lay against him, still slightly out of breath.  And though I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer, I couldn’t help but ask. 

“What was that?”

Heimdall smiled, as calm and wise as ever.  “Our Ragnarok,” he replied, and kissed me.


End file.
